Sweet Dreams
by GigiHudson
Summary: With the Alpha pack the main focus for Scott and Derek, Stiles gets forgotten. Peter Hale has disappeared, Derek is fighting against the almost invincible new threat, and Scott is doing his best to help, whilst protecting Allison. But who can protect Stiles from something that they didn't even know was a threat? (Demon!Stiles fic.)
1. Chapter 1

He walked down the rows of the church with his head tilted to the side, an odd, birdlike gesture that immediately made Derek uncomfortable, though he couldn't pinpoint just why, not with the stabbing feeling in his arm. Through the almost blinding pain, he couldn't make out the details of Stiles' face, but it didn't matter, he knew every feature. Every freckle.

And something was wrong. So, so wrong.

Derek didn't miss the way Stiles ran his thin, spider-like fingertips along the mahogany pews that lined the aisle. He didn't miss the way Stiles walked, a smooth, light step, so unlike his usual awkward shuffle. His shoulders weren't rounded forwards anymore, and the cloak of self consciousness had disappeared. It unsettled him, because it was so inherently wrong.

But the thing that unsettled Derek most of all, the thing that made him suddenly swallow down the fear in his throat, the fear that almost made him retch, was the wide grin on Stiles' face. A grin that was all teeth and sharp cheekbones, skin stretched tight across a pale face. And as Stiles drew nearer, still trailing his fingertips in an almost merry way, dancing them along the wooden pews, still walking with that quick, lithe gait, he realised that something was horribly wrong.

His skin, already burning from the poison in his leg, began to crawl. His burning flesh was making him shudder as he tried to scramble backwards, realising far too late that whoever was in front of him was not Stiles. "No, no….no…" His rough, hoarse whispers trailed off as it approached, only feet away now.

As his hands frantically reached behind him, clutching at the velvet carpet with desperate, yet weak hands, he dragged himself backward until he hit the wooden panel that covered the walls of the church. His arms shook from the effort, his already uneven breathing drew worse as fear set in, yet he slammed his back up against the wall, desperately trying to heave himself up, his short, heavy breaths letting the creature know just how weak he was. He managed to lift his torso slightly before his arms collapsed under him, and he lay back against the wall, his shredded legs laid out before him, his strength gone.

It came to a stop just inches from him.

Derek strained his neck up, trying to look into it's face, but he was truly weak now, and his head fell down, resting on his bloody chest while he struggled to breathe. He let his eyes flutter close, too weak to keep them open.

It didn't matter. The creature crouched down before him, resting its elbows on denim clad knees before grasping Derek's chin and forcing his face upwards. The fear that had abated due to the pain and exhaustion came flooding back, his terror spiking as he felt the creatures flesh touch his. Stiles, or whatever possessed him, was freezing cold, his hands like ice. It pierced through him.

And suddenly his eyes were open, only inches away from the demons, whose own eyes were all black. It was like looking into the abyss, so empty and devoid of light. The blackness had swallowed his eyes whole and left nothing there, no hint of the amber brown irises that had previously been there. Something deep inside Derek ached at that, the loss of those warm eyes.

But there was no time for thoughts like that, not when he was dying. Not like this. So painful was it, that it felt as though his very flesh was on fire, but still not as painful as Stiles' death. That burned inside him too, and he was trying so hard not to let him think of that, focussing on the physical pain. Anything to keep that away.

His hands bunched into fists at his sides, weak though they were, and he managed to spit the words out.  
"What…are….you?" It hurt him to talk, and the effort made his throat feel as though he had swallowed a dozen razors, the rough pain making him bite down on his lip. It didn't matter though, he could struggle through this nightmarish haze all he wanted, he was still dying. And if the wounds the other Alphas had inflicted on him didn't kill him, he was pretty sure the creature would.

He always knew that somehow Stiles would be the death of him.


	2. Chapter 2

The thing wearing Stiles' face inclined his eyebrows, pouting as he stood up. "Not even a 'who', Derek? A 'what'? You wound me." He clasped his hands over his heart, still pouting as he laughed. "I have a name, you know." He dropped back down into a crouch again, his face inches from Derek's. He was so close that Derek could feel his breath, ice cold against his face. It was like standing in a walk in freezer; the whole temperature of the room had dropped.

"How long have you been inside him?" The thing laughed, a long, high laugh that made Derek wince in pain; it was a sound like needles being forced into his skin, it felt like it was scraping along his skull. "A few hours?" He spat the words out, fury burning through him, chasing away the distant agony at the back of his mind, that which he could not think about. When the thing just carried on laughing, he shouted louder, as loud as he could with his broken body.  
"All day?!" He strained against the invisible weights weighing him down, every urge, every muscle inside his body straining to attack the creature inside Stiles. Yet he couldn't move, laying propped against the wall like a broken toy. It still laughed.

And then a horrifying chill came over Derek, cold like frost seeping into his bones, the dread filling his stomach. "No…" He whispered the words, all his adrenaline fuelled strength deserting him.  
Finally it stopped laughing, the skeletal grin still stretched over it's face as it surveyed Derek through pitch black eyes. It had an odd, bemused expression upon it's face, as if it couldn't quite believe Derek.

"You really didn't realise did you?" It let out that laugh again, the high, glass shards laugh, and Derek felt himself collapse, as if his horror had stolen the last of his strength. The creature stood up again, walking only a few paces before turning back to Derek, ecstatically amused.  
"I've been inside him for months. Wearing him like a fur coat. You had no idea. The famous alpha, Derek Hale, werewolf royalty-" he said the word with venomous sarcasm just dripping off his tongue, "and you didn't realise what was right in front of you. Oh, this is delicious." The despair was taking over Derek now, dragging him down like a physical force.

"No, no….no…" He shook his head wearily, his small protests drowned out by the laughter coming from Stiles- it, not Stiles, it. Only this time the laughter was deeper, and it echoed inside Derek's ribcage, smoking out the vestiges of hope.

"You thought it was Stiles? Of course you did- you wanted so badly to believe he cared for you, didn't you? I don't think I can blame you, it's not as though there's anyone else, is there?" And then he had locked eyes with Derek, and Derek let out a small sound, somewhere between a plea, a moan and a choking sound. And then, just like that, the demon was in front of Derek once more, crouched down. It happened so fast that Derek barely had time to recoil, fixed in place by those eyes. It was like gazing into the abyss, and he was terrified at what he might see peering back out at him.

The demon ran one long, slender finger along Derek's cheekbone, so softly that he could barely feel it. When he lifted his finger to his mouth, it was covered it crimson blood. He ran his tongue over it before grinning again. This time he cupped Derek's cheek, his ice cold fingers gentle against Derek's burning skin.  
"Did you think this was him? The kisses, the touches, those late nights tangles together in his bed while you sought comfort? You really thought that was him?" He laughed, and Derek shook with the pain that erupted inside his body, squeezing his eyes shut with the effort of staying conscious.  
"You fool." The words were a whisper at his ear, a cold breath on his neck. He turned his head to the right, desperately trying to move away from it, but that was all he could manage in his weakened state. He tried to block out the words, ignore the voice like nails on a chalk board, the voice that sent shivers up his spine, but he couldn't.

"Poor little Derek. No one ever wants the broken toys do they? Kate was never interested in you, you were just a means to an end." He fought back the burning string of tears, the helplessness and fear, clawing at his stomach. "And your family…" He laughed again, and the sound reverberated through Derek.  
"I don't think they loved you when they were being burnt alive."

And suddenly the hole, that gaping black hole that had ripped Derek apart inside was filled with anger and fury. He swung his fist at it, putting all the force he could behind it. It caught the demon of guard, but he didn't even sway. Derek collapsed back again, his head hitting the wooden walls. He could taste the blood in his mouth, sharp and tangy. He was choking on it, it was filling his mouth, his throat, spilling down his chin, and just before he lost consciousness, he heard the demon whisper into his ear;  
"My name is Xaphan, and we're going to have so much fun."


End file.
